


Exorbitant shipping

by down



Category: Magic Knight Rayearth
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Community: fan_flashworks, Community: trope_bingo, F/M, also appearing: Hikaru and Fuu, background implied Fuu/Ferio, but with magic, language/translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 21:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15872148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/down/pseuds/down
Summary: "Fuu - Fuu! You have to get me his email address. Someone needs to tell him he's wrong!"





	Exorbitant shipping

**Author's Note:**

> For fan_flashworks 'ship', and trope_bingo 'language/translation'.

Ryuuzaki Umi wallowed in her new office chair, delighted by the whole idea of having an office of her very own - to fill up with random tat and too many books, like all _her_ lecturers and professors had done. Granted, the room was barely larger than a cupboard - but it was _hers_. The first real evidence that she hadn't dreamt it - she really had managed to get herself a job as a lecturer with the ink still drying on her doctorate. 

A very junior lecturer, but her foot was in the door, and that was all she needed. Sheer stubbornness would do the rest, she had faith she could make a career out of this. 

Of course, this meant she needed to get to grips with actually _teaching students_ , but she'd got another month before they started turning up. She'd done some while she was working on her phd, but it felt a little… different, when that was actually why they'd hired her. Not that she hadn't been given some very clear and completely unofficial guidelines by the department head on publishing and doing her bit to advance the reputation of their university, but mostly they needed someone to deal with drumming basic information into the undergrads. 

The other just-arrived evidence that this was real lay on her desk - the first post addressed to 'Ryuuzaki Umi, Department of Historical Magic, University of North Kyoto'. 

It had startled just about all her friends when she ended up in historical magic - everyone, Umi included, had expected her to go into a practical field, probably experimental, or to wind up a very high-class practitioner. She had the power for it, after all, and she'd gone into her undergraduate degree with a groan at the historical unit she had to take in her first year. Only it turned out historical magic was really all about having arguments. 

And there was nothing in the world Umi liked better than an argument. Particularly when she had enough power she could, in fact, get away with running experiments to prove some of the theories.

By the time she graduated, she'd admitted the truth - especially in this day and age, where interdisciplinary work was becoming more and more common so it wasn't like she couldn't be a historian and also play with actual magic experimentation if she wanted to. She powered through first a masters then her doctorate - and now she was here, a small pile of newly-published journals sat on her new desk waiting for her to read them and make snarky comments in the margins. 

It was early afternoon, and she had nothing better to do for a few hours, so she settled in with them, feet up on her desk, pen in her hand. Most were in Japanese, of course, but she'd kept up her languages well enough to follow a lot of the international research without waiting for translations; two were in English, and one was in German. She started with those, skimming through to see if there was anything of real interest this issue. 

One article caught her eye, about the prevalence of rag-wells in Britain and placing them in their international context with other kinds of shrine, particularly of cleansing or healing. The first paragraphs made a decent amount of sense, and the next few continued the trend. She started to nod, tapping her pen on the paper but scratching no derisive remarks on it - until the author reached the current theories surrounding the purification of people's 'fortunes' at Shrines in Japan, and whether they were built on powerful locations, or made powerful. 

Three short sentences in the middle of the section were enough to have her frowning - bad enough to reference a book she knew, Miyazaki's study of New Years Festivals from the 70s, as quoted by _another book_ without any evidence the author had read the original - but to reference a book as _misquoted_ by someone who seemed to have translated it _entirely the wrong way-_

Worse, the writer built the incorrect theory into his own, as a point of dissent, where if he'd just actually read the original - Umi could see the way it would have bolstered his main argument perfectly. 

It was irritating. It was more than that - it was downright infuriating, because other than that the article was good, and made a lot of sense, and people were going to read this and get entirely the wrong idea about what Miyazaki had been theorising, and- _ugh_. All because, what, they couldn't read Japanese? Couldn't they at least have got a copy and given it to their University's modern languages department, if nothing else?

She flipped back to the beginning, and glared at the name. 'Clef de Cephiro'. What kind of a name even was that? The three line biography told her this 'Clef' was a man, that he was working on a book about megaliths - well, what historical magician in Europe wasn't - and that he was a senior lecturer at the University of Norwich, which she'd never heard of, but on ten seconds of angry internet searching appeared to be built from equal parts of a medieval abbey, and some monstrous sixties concrete blocks.

He probably had an office in the nice old bit, too. _Bah_. 

Well. Maybe it was haunted. He deserved ghosts for letting himself down with such a sloppy moment of research. 

oOo

Three hours later, she was grouching about it to her two best friends, squeezed onto the end of the bar at a tiny izakaya downtown - all three of them were in Kyoto now, though Hikaru was still studying - veterinary medicine was a long process, particularly when you added in a couple of specialisms. Fuu had started working with an aerodynamics research laboratory while she was working on her masters, and she was there fulltime now, doing revolutionary things which she couldn't talk about. 

"But the rest of the article was good, you said?" Hikaru asked, over her agedashi doufu. "Maybe he can't read Japanese himself. It sounds like most of his research is on more European things, right?" 

"That's why it was so - so disappointing! If you don't know how to read it, you shouldn't reference it!"

Fuu hummed thoughtfully beside her. "Which University did you say he was from?"

"Some city out in some rural place. Norfolk, or something." 

"…The University of Norwich?" 

"That's it," Umi scowled down at her drink, then blinked, and looked at Fuu. "Why?" 

Fuu smiled - the smile which instantly said 'mischief' to both of her friends. "Oh, I think that's the University we've borrowed our newest recruit from - you remember I mentioned Ferio? Here on a one-year research exchange?"

"The one you like!" Hikaru agreed, instantly, and Fuu flushed hard. But Umi had leapt down a different path. 

"Fuu - Fuu! You have to get me his email address. Someone needs to tell him he's wrong!" 

Smile twitching up into a smirk, Fuu raised her phone from her lap, the message screen already up. "I thought you might say that." 

oOo

Probably Umi should have waited until morning before she sent any emails. Or at least until she was slightly less tipsy. 

…On the other hand, it probably wouldn't have made that much difference, but it would have been nice to know what she'd said. 

oOo

Next day, she dragged five boxes of books and her new work laptop to her office. (Her office! That wasn't getting old anytime soon.) She logged in and left the laptop to run updates - IT had promised it would only take a few hours for it to sort itself out, but it would only do it docked on campus, not over her home wifi - and set to filling up some of the bookshelves. 

When the laptop chirped a happy 'new email' sound, she froze, suddenly remembering logging on the night before and - she dropped into the chair, and stared at the screen and the email she had absolutely received from 'c.cephiro@norwich-uni.ac.uk'. 

It took her a good minute to remember he was a twit who absolutely deserved both ghosts and drunken tirades, maybe, before she could bring herself to open it - but the response wasn't actually that impolite. It was also in passable, if stilted, Japanese. 

'Dear Ryuuzaki-san,

My apologies for disappointing you so thoroughly. Unfortunately my resources are only finite, and finding a copy of an out-of-print Japanese book from the seventies and arranging for someone to buy it before the article went to print proved impossible, even without bankrupting myself on shipping fees. I do have an acquaintance searching for a copy, they have not succeeded so far.

Thank you for your detailed analysis of how I was wrong - you are correct that your reading of Miyazaki's work would be of great interest to me, unfortunately it is only quoted in the one work I have found so far, which you find objectionable. 

If such a situation arises in future, I shall be sure to contact you to ascertain whether the obscure text I am trying to quote have been interpreted badly. 

Regards, 

Clef de Cephiro'

His contact details were in the automatic signature. She eyed the message hard, pretty certain it was snarky as heck on purpose - also, no wonder his 'acquaintance' hadn't found him a copy of it, from what Fuu said the man could barely read hiragana - a bookshop was going to be a jungle of confusion to him. 

On the other hand… 

She looked at the clock, and then at the boxes. It wasn't like she _had_ to unpack today. 

oOo

A month passed, and in the terror of getting ready for the incoming students, Umi almost forgot the whole thing - until she found a small package with an English postmark in her cubbyhole, her name scrawled across it in a hand that was so scratchy it was almost elegant - and the return address, when she flipped it, was Norwich University. 

She sat down at her desk and eyed it for a minute. She'd never received a response to her parcel, but the only note she'd put in it was 'see, the shipping's not that bad'. This didn't feel quite like a book, but it was definitely paper of some kind. 

Well, it wasn't going to open itself. 

The cone-bound set of paper that fell out of it reminded her instantly of having her bound thesis in her hands for the first time, and she spared a moment to grin at it before pulling out the book which had been underneath, picking up the hand-written note that was tucked into the pages. He hadn't attempted Japanese this time - probably for the best, if this was his neat handwriting in his native tongue.

'You were right, it was very useful. The new version won't be out until the next volume is printed in a few months, I thought you might appreciate a look.

I found your article on sacred trees very interesting. This book might be of interest - and harder to find in Japan.

~Clef d.C.'

She read it again, stalling for a moment on the fact he'd not only looked up her work, but apparently gone and found it and - found something he thought she might like? Guess he really did appreciate the book, then. She turned back to the one he'd sent, which had a picture of one of his rag-wells on the front, the tree leaning over the spring hung all over with the tied rags from visitors. 

"Well, it's a change from worrying about teaching, I guess," she muttered, and curled up more comfortably to just flick through it, the revised and expanded article waiting like a reward on her desk. _That_ she would save for the evening.

oOo

Five hours later, she sent him an email which was one part thanks, ten parts questions about other books being referenced in the bibliography of this one, none of which were listed in the contents of any of the libraries she had access to - or on any of the online shops. (Plus a short, embarrassed but highly pleased line about the new article.) She got back a short note telling her brusquely that three of them were utter rubbish, but he'd see what he could do about the others. 

oOo

Things went on from there. Short emails and letters expanded into actual debates; he actually did send her a copy of his next article, and it only seemed fair to send him hers. The exchange of books ate up rather more of her income than was probably wise - the shipping costs really weren't cheap, let alone finding the books - but she got so many useful thing back that it balanced out somehow. Plus, she gained a reputation in the Department for being able to get her hands on things, which helped enormously with getting settled with her new colleagues. 

For three years, they exchanged emails and letters and argued fiercely about everything they could think of to argue about. And in all that time, she had no idea what he looked like, or even sounded like - there were no photos of him she could find on the internet, and the time-zones were too awkward to try calling him without a good reason. Then she managed to get a speaking slot at a conference in Germany - one which had his name on the programme, as well. 

Her plane was delayed for nearly twelve hours, and she charged into the conference venue a mess, jetlagged and exhausted, but just in time to see him step up to the microphone. 

When their eyes met, over the hundred people in the room, he nearly dropped it. 

oOo

Two years on, and Umi petted her lovely new desk, in her lovely new office - her new, large office - with a nameplace that said 'senior lecturer'. A new University, a new book going to the publishers - she'd had a very good year. 

As had the newly hired Professor whose office was on the other side of the corridor. If she leaned back in her chair, she could throw things at him as he sat at his desk. 

The costs of moving him out to Japan had been pretty high, but when you considered what they would save on shipping, really it was the only economical thing to do. 

oOo

**Author's Note:**

> REALLY LONG NOTES NO ONE NEEDS: 
> 
> A rag-well or holy well is one of the terms for early modern/medievel/pre-medieval/pagan springs or well-sites which are/were meant to have power, in particular for healing various things. One of the more common ways they were used in some parts of britain was you dipped a cloth in the water and washed the affected part of the body, then hung or tied the cloth on the tree (there was nearly always a tree by/over the well) and left it behind, which would hopefully leave the illness behind/cause the illness to disintergrate as the cloth did. (The practise was wide and very varied, and a lot of the wells and springs had pre-christian traditions which, uh, seem to have just had a saint's story attached to them so people could keep on using them - some places you bathed in them, some you drank the water, or left an offering in/on the associated tree...) A few are still known - the roman baths at Bath are a part of the tradition - but a lot have faded and a lot of the traditions are lost or hidden. (Or, like the well that's probably one in the village I grew up in, they're now down someone's garden and attached to their tomato feeder *grin*.) There are traditions across the world that are similar (but probably don't end in tomatoes?) 
> 
> (Walk the wood so wild also pings off this. I'm a little fascinated.)
> 
> Neither University mentioned in this exist - I didn't think it was fair to drop Umi or Clef on a real one *grins*. However, Umi's 'North Kyoto' is loosely inspired by Ritsumeikan (which I attended as an exchange student for a year on the campus in the north of Kyoto) and Clef's 'Norwich University' is a terrible amalgamation of Norwich University of the Arts - which has part of a medieval friary (the east garth photography building to be precise)- and the University of East Anglia, which is on the outskirts of Norwich, and - well, the brutalist (huge lumps of concrete) architecture of chunks of it is not precisely to everyone's taste. XD (search 'UEA ziggurats' if you're curious, I think they're hilarious.)


End file.
